


Original Character Imports

by ValkyriePhoenix



Series: Things That Should Not Have Worked: a Brief History of S.H.I.E.L.D. [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Extreme Child Abuse, If it's a trigger - assume it's about to get pulled, May be Under-Tagged, Murder, Rape, Torture, adults who suck, criminal negligence on the part of law enforcement, homophobic parents, kids being awesome people, mentions of just about every trigger in existence, no, not over-tagged, rape murder and torture of minors, really - Freeform, stupid cops, survival against all odds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyriePhoenix/pseuds/ValkyriePhoenix
Summary: Brief backgrounds of characters from Original Works who may be imported to Code/Harrows and Bodies verse, but are waaaay too trigger-happy, to write in the normal way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're going to be pulling in characters (not yet sure how many and which exactly) from an original story I am also writing. That story is a sucky, angst-ridden, "ALL THE TRIGGERS...fuck it, just launch a nuke" place. We don't want to put details of that into our significantly less triggery fanworks, nor expect you to read something so triggery I haven't even made it publically available.  
> This is the authors'-edition background of some of the characters we may be pulling, which means it's bare bones, super basic, and only brief mentions of hellish things...but there's a LOT of hellish things that needed mentioning. People familiar with my nukedom tale still call this "intense", despite it being as basic as possible. Tread with Caution.
> 
> That said, abused kids, both as children and as adults, both here and in my personal experience, are some of the most awesome, strong, capable, and caring individuals I have ever met. Even when I want to snuggle them close and feed them yummy things and hiss angrily at their ghosts and demons. They also never see themselves as such. 
> 
> I need to say this loud and clear:  
> If you survived _ANY_ abuse whatsoever, nevermind at the super-hellish levels these characters did:  
>  YOU ARE A SUPERHERO. You are terrifyingly AWESOME. Even the worst COULD NOT BREAK YOU. Your armor may be dirty, scratched and dented, but you're still standing...and you fought a fuckin BALROG. Head high, buttercup, you are MAGNIFICENT.

**Little/Kitten**

****

A woman gives birth alone in her kitchen. The labor kicks off a heart attack and she dies.  
  
Her husband comes home to a squalling infant and a dead wife. He blames the infant. Puts “it”(her) in the crib they'd prepared and cleans up evidence of the birth, then calls 911. They find the heart attack first and stop there. No record of the infant ever exists.

 

Shortly after hearing of the woman's death, her sister and her sister's 9 year old daughter rush to the house to “be with him in his grief” and the 9 year old finds the baby and just starts taking care of her. To keep them quiet the man promptly marries the sister.

 

He puts the baby and all her things in the basement, giving most things to goodwill. He's still hoping the baby will die for killing his wife, even if the 9 year old spoiled that plan. The girl frankly doesn't give a fuck, uses all the formula and diapers he couldn't get rid of taking care of the baby. Then sells her nice things to other students at school, replacing them with thrift store finds and using the money to buy more supplies for the baby. Then she starts working “odd jobs” to keep the baby fed and warm and relatively clean. The father beats her every time he catches her at it, or trying to name “it.” She does it anyways. Teachers are happy to send home letters announcing a party and asking her to bring cupcakes so she'll have an excuse to have “leftovers” for the baby girl's birthday when she asks them to. The lady who runs the grocery store Katerin does odd jobs for and shops for the baby at, has almost-correctly put 2 and 2 together, and starts marking up baby things and 9 year old girl things as lost product and slipping them into the bags of what Kat is buying this time. At some point, one of the people who've at least sort of figured it out tried calling CPS, but as there was no evidence of a baby anywhere in the house, nothing was done, so people just passive support the girls instead. ('Father' beat Kat severely after the CPS visit.) Kat builds a trap door and ladder down to the basement from her closet so she can bring the baby up where it's warm at night and sets up a little bed in the closet so she'll also be hidden and safe from Him.

 

Every year on the baby's birthday, Kat tries to give her a name, having stopped the daily attempts after a couple months of daily beatings, but, after the second time, the baby girl begs her not to keep trying to name her, but Kat insists the beatings aren't nearly as important as the girl having a name, because names mark people as _people_ and not things and names are important. Also, because “You deserve a name, no matter what anyone else says.”

 

On either birthday 3 or 4 (I haven't decided yet), He gets fed up with this. Instead of the usual beating, when he finds the baby name book in Kat's room, he rapes the 12/13 year old to death. (Possibly rape+strangulation) After he finished, he turned around and saw the closet door cracked, and at the bottom, two little eyes had seen the whole thing. He gets something from the cleaning supplies closet, drags the little girl out to the bedroom, holds her down and pours acid in her eyes. She passes out from the pain, He assumes she's dead. Leaving his things on the dresser, He goes to dig a ditch for two in the back yard. The younger of the girls comes to while he's digging, takes what feels like a wad of cash from his wallet on the dresser and the bag Kat kept packed for “just in case”, climbs out the window and runs.

 

(Need to deviate for a moment and tell two other stories here real quick)

 

Jason was star running back on his highschool football team. Varsity, despite being 16. His dad was a premier cardio-vascular surgeon with political ambitions, most of which hinged on being “more-Conservative-than-you.” So when dad read Jason's diary and discovered he had … less than strictly-platonic feelings for his best friend the quarterback.... It didn't go over well. In the “Let's see if the death of a thousand cuts is actually possible” way. When Jason passed out from blood loss at school, the school nurse sent him to a hospital. They stitched him up, sent him home and called the cops. Dr. Homophobia told the cops he did it to himself. The cops left, and Dr. Homophobia ripped the stitches out. Jason passed out again the next day and was sent back to the hospital. They stitched him back up, sent him back home, and called the cops again. When the cops showed up DocHomo told them again that he did it to himself. No further inquiry was ever made. Never mind the impossibility of carving, and then ripping the stitches out of, the words “FAGGOT TRAITOR” between one's own shoulder blades. The Good Doctor ™ said he'd done it to himself, therefor he must have done it to himself.   
  


Jason packed a bag, took his dad's ATM card, withdrew the maximum possible amount, trashed the card, and bolted, winding up on the streets of a city far away where he met...

 

Jacob lived in North Texas, just south of the border of biblebeatersville. His father was their one-street-light-town's star quarterback “back in his day,” but Jacob was a music prodigy, like his mother's brother. Could play any instrument he picked up within 5 minutes, could play it like a pro within a week, less if it had strings. His mother's brother died of AIDS complications and left all his instruments to the one relative who'd use them, some of which were really quite expensive. Naturally, Dad assumed that Jacob's lack of interest in sports and love of music meant that Jacob was gay. (He wasn't. Straight as they come.) So dad sold one of Jacob's inheritance instruments and bought himself a luxury sedan, and a skateboard “for” Jacob, and broke Jacob's arm. A month later, he sold another, bought himself a speed boat for the lake, another skateboard and broke Jacob's other arm. The third time, he bought a rifle, broke a third skateboard on Jacob's arm, breaking the arm again, and when CPS and the cops showed up, pointed to the skateboard, said it was the third one, and that he wouldn't be buying Jacob any more skateboards. No further inquiry was made. Jacob packed up his remaining instruments, a Strativarius violin, a Gibson guitar, and a cello, filled a duffle bag with clothes, grabbed whatever cash he could find in the house and ran, busking his way to a far away city where he met Jason.

 

The two promptly decided they were brothers.

 

(Back to your scheduled story)

 

A couple blocks down the street, her vision blurring more and more, fast, and half-delerious with pain, the little girl ran into two teenage boys. Literally. They took one look at her, freaked out, picked her up and ran towards the hospital, debating how to get her in without getting picked up and sent home where their fathers would undoubtedly kill them. She begged them not to, Kat had already died for her and she didn't want anybody else to, especially not people who'd risk it to help some strange girl they'd never seen before. So one, who'd turned his early excessive reading of medical books and journals into a sort-of-living as a street medic, subsidized with thievery and prostitution, ran to a nearby pharmacy and stole several boxes of baking soda, bottled water, gauze rolled bandages, several tubes of Neosporin, and a couple bottles each children's tylenol and children's motrin. (When Jason was stealing supplies from the pharmacy, they caught him on the cameras, realized what he was stealing and what those things mean when combined, and the pharmacist cornered him, asking questions, but clearly not about to take the things away or arrest him. Confused, he answers truthfully about the tiny run away girl who didn't want them to take her to the hospital, and the burns on her face, in her eyes. The pharmacist just nods, looks over his loot briefly, and says "She'll need antibiotics too, maybe some stronger pain medications, and some saline solution to wash her eyes out with on a regular basis, her tearducts may scar closed. Wait here." and she goes and mixes up the medicines, puts them in a styrofoam box with chemical icepacks, a stash of unused icepacks in a bag, puts his loot, the saline, applesauces and crackers into the bag, hands it all to him and tells him that if he'll work under the table for the pharmacy, an hour or two a day, they'll keep a box under the counter of medical and food items for the three run aways that he can pick up whenever he needs them.)

 

They got her to shelter and treated her themselves, feeding her applesauce until she could handle more. They got her to tell them about why such a little girl had those injuries and why she was out there. Then decided to keep her, because she wouldn't let them take her to a hospital and they weren't letting her wander alone. Jason taught himself Braille so he could teach her to read. Jacob started busking outside a music shop (it brought them business so they didn't mind) and then teaching lessons to beginners for the music store to earn enough to keep her fed and buy her things like blankets and a good jacket and shoes. He also taught her to play violin, which she learned surprisingly quickly, and gave her the Strativarius. (She wouldn't sleep under the blanket unless they were all under blankets, even if that meant all three snuggled together under one. She figured out how to make food, even cookies, in oil-drum fireplaces and made sure they ate. She decided Jacob was “A-Da [Adoptive-dad]” and Jason was “A-Pa” and they were HERS.)

 

The Rings* picked them up a few months later and kept her to keep them in line. She promptly insisted on never being “the weak link” or the “easy target” and set about learning to run, fight, climb and use weapons as well as any of the grown ups, despite her size, youth and blindness. Her sight was never going to come back from the “well there's a light-source that way-ish” level, nor were the scars on her face going away, and she'd always be tiny because of her early and constant malnutrition, but she sure as fuck didn't see any reason to be weaker or less capable than anyone else....

 

 

 

*The Rings is an international, massive problem. Take the worst aspects of the historical (not Hollywood approved) Roman Gladiator circuit, without the option of winning or buying your way out, the worst aspects of modern human trafficking and prostitution, and just a dash of Nazi concentration camps for flavor, blend thoroughly and pour. All genders, orientations, and races between 12 & 45 represented in the slave-pool, subjected to murder, rape, and torture for entertainment and profit, often forced to do the same to each other, and shot like lamed horses when injured too severely to get back to “work” within a certain time frame. It's too large and widespread for the world governments to take care of without crumpling under the weight, so they all have a treaty with the modern-day Spartacus, called Vaghdjachkt (no, you don't have to pronounce that), to essentially look the other way while she and her people take care of it. Bloodily.

 

** “Little” doesn't have a name, nor does she want one. And the Jachkt, the slaves of the Rings respect that choice, instead, they call her words that mean “little (one),” “kitten,” and in some cases “beloved” or “most beloved of all the Jachkt/people.” And she very much is beloved by every Jachkt that has met her, and many that have not. “Jachkt” means “to survive” as a verb, bearing in mind that physical survival is not of much import when every breath could be your last, and there's nothing you can do about it - survival goes deeper than the body, and as a noun means “one who has had no choice but do what is necessary to survive or die; survivor. Or the society, laws, religion, or social morals of such individuals.” And they see in her a tiny thing who should not have to count among them, but does, and thrives, and is determined to care for others, while doing everything she can to limit how much care she needs. And they _adore_ her.   
She has been known to pull pranks (sometimes mean ones) without getting caught on pretty much anybody who hurts her people, climb _everything_ , go rafter-jumping, and scramble over obstacle courses grown ups have trouble with.

She has possible X-gene telepathy that does not express itself like other telepathy except that she can tell when someone is trying to read her mind and keep them out, and occasionally choose to share a thought/memory with someone else. Instead or “reading thoughts” like other telepaths, she has a people radar, knowing who is where and whether a person approaching is a threat without actually touching minds in any detectable/active way. She can also borrow information from others' optic nerves, again without touching thoughts, and use it to see in a way, though she often practices doing everything without using that, just in case a need arises to do so.

Unlike Jacob, who has an affinity for sound and the things that produce it, Little is NOT a musical prodigy, though many hearing her play her violin would say she is. Rather, to her music is magic and magic is music. Where some see and smell magic, she hears it as music, sometimes a harmonic chord, sometimes a discordant tone, sometimes a full symphony; and she controls her own magic through the same, sometimes fitting a known song to her purpose, sometimes improvising or writing whole new music to the purpose held in her mind to weave a spell. Masters of siedr are like to be floored by how delicately the very young girl can weave spells of her own, not taught to her by others, by simply using music as her medium.

 

 


	2. Glossary of the Jachkt

Jachkthdaghe Glossary of Terms

 

Pronunciation: Every letter is pronounced, clearly and individually. Every consonant is hard, every vowel is short. No letters are silent. An apostrophe ( ' ) indicates a glottal stop, which is something like a pause half or less of the length  indicated by a space, or a quarter of the pause indicated by a comma, one eighth of the pause of a period. It sounds like something somewhere between German, Hebrew, Norse, and Klingon. If you don't sound “angry” regardless of what you're saying, and accidentally spitting on your neighbor at least twice per sentence of Jachkthdaghe, you're probably saying it wrong.

 

_ A brief note about the silent form of Jachkthdaghe: It is NOT similar to ASL or other sign languages. There are no clear gestures and no alphabet, but rather it is made up entirely of motions that look like casual or habitual motions, minute changes in posture, pose and facial expressions, and the insult gestures from around the world with different meanings for each of many subtle changes to the angle or delivery of the gesture. Thus, persons using silent Jachkthdaghe have entire conversations without appearing to do any more than sitting in silence glaring at each other, or fidgeting awkwardly. _

 

**Achgend** : n. lit. “oath breaker” highest slur applied to anyone, literally a curse.

 

**Adhaj'kaldechkt** : n. or pl. n. the lost who could not live, unborn dead of the Jachkt, spoken with mournful reverence.

 

**Dahk'lev'aahn** : n. avenging justice, a repayed blood debt, usually an execution

 

**Jachkt** : v. to survive.   
n. lit. “survivor” 1. one who has had to choose to survive or die, OR 2. the name of the people who survive or die as slaves in the Rings, OR 3. the religion, culture, or social conduct rule set of said people

 

**Jachkthdaghe** : n. lit “Survivor-speak” the language, spoken, silent and written, of the Jachkt.

 

**Javeg'dh** : lit. “Silent Eyes” with overtones of depth and watchfulness.

 

**Jek** : n. Joy or happiness of the soul-deep variety.

 

**Jel'ghanev** : n. the whole person, encompassing mind/sanity, heart, body, soul, honor, personality (what makes you unique), memories, intelligence, personhood (one's status as a person, as opposed to an animal or object), and selfness (one's status as an individual with individual rights).

 

**Jh'leng** : n./ pl. n. willing minion(s) of the  _ vehng _

 

**jh'elen'gar** : n. / pl. n. willing minion(s) of the  _ vehnghat  _ and  _ vehnghatakal _ , usually slave procurement.

 

**Khva'g** : n. medic, approximately EMT or paramedic level.

 

**Khva'gdh** : n. lit “Good Surgeon” title, high rank doctor.

 

**Khva'gdhaj** : n. lit “Good Surgeon of Souls” title, the highest priest(ess), Jachkt equivalent of the pope.

 

**Khvadhaj** : n. soul doctor, priest.

 

**Koh'lagh** : lit “Bright sparrow”

 

**Vaghdjachkt** : lit “Survivor General” title, highest secular rank of Jachkt, something like a 5 star General, the Secretary of State, and the Queen of England all rolled into one.

 

**Vehk** : n. / pl. n. lit. “fuck(s)” applied only to the audience and clients of the Rings

 

**vehkaleija** : n. / pl. n. lit “sickfuck(s)” with a particularly high level of disgust 1.sadist pedophile, OR 2. one who brings death for sexual enjoyment.

 

**Vehng** : n. / pl. n. slave owner  of the Rings

 

**vehnghat** : n. The collective of all the slave owners OR the ruling council of one Ring.

 

**Vehnghatakal** : n. the ruling council of the  _ vehnghat,  _ the council of bosses who preside over the entire Rings system/league.

 

**Vehnkurgh** : n. lit “owner whore”, slur, a Jachkt who turns against their own to curry favor with an owner, commonly viewed roughly 3 steps lower than what inmates of a  _ veljachkt  _ prison generally view a “snitch”.

 

**Veljachkt** : n. / pl. n. one who has not had to choose to survive or die, OR the society of such   
adj. Applying to the society of those who have not had to survive or die (eg:  _ veljachkt  _ religions,  _ veljachkt  _ justice, etc.)

 

Other notes:

Jachkt have 6 fields with 8 ranks each. 8 is the highest, 1 is the lowest. When you’ve been in 3 months, you get your coat. Coats are floor length, pierced leather of the color of the field you came in highest on, as you gain ranks in other fields more of those colors is added, woven through the pierced holes in a pattern unique to you.    
The fields are Combat (black), Tactics (Grey), Medical (Green), Priesthood (Red), Sciences/Tech (Blue), and Management (law, accounting, HR, etc) (Purple).  They all have hoods with black mesh that covers the top half of the faces, obscuring identity.   
  
The low ranks are independent, But above rank 4, there are prerequisites of ranks in other fields.  For example, Rank 6 of Combat is dependant on having Rank 4 Tactics; Rank 7 Priesthood requires ranks in both Medical and Management. The Vaghdjachkt is the only one currently at Rank 8 in all fields.   
  
When Jachkt meet each other, they say their Jachkt name, and the rank number only of each field like “Ghor’avihn, 785462” in the order CTMePSMa. 

 

I don’t have the words themselves yet, but the literal translation of the words for “death” and “free” are one syllable different, one meaning “Stands-In-The-Light” the other meaning “Walks-in-the-light.”  Which says something about how they view death in its many forms.

 

Suicide is considered an honorable death, actually the same as dieing in battle. The reasoning being that when there’s no choice but to die as a body or become something...Less, it is better to go down whole. (There have been some reduced to catatonia, some turned into feral, wounded animals, and some who became…well, Reavers. Better to suicide if your only hope of physical survival is one of those.) Suicide is a protected right, one almost holy. Taking even THAT choice away is considered the highest of crimes. Which is not to say that it is recommended or sought after, it’s a last resort, reserved for truly dire circumstances, of the type no one wants to contemplate.


End file.
